


Creator

by days4daisy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Celestial Cock Rings, Dubious Consent, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Possession, Power Dynamics, Season/Series 05, The Author Regrets Everything, Tumblr Prompt, angel incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4037422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer is less amused. “Lying with demons, Gabriel?” His nose wrinkles. “What in the world is that like?”</p>
<p>Gabriel responds by plucking his glass of scotch from the table. “Kinky,” he says, then takes a sip.</p>
<p>--<br/>Takes place sometime between the start of Season 5 and 05x10 - "Abandon All Hope..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creator

**Author's Note:**

> A Tumblr anon sent me this Ask:
> 
> _1\. Okay, Crowbrifer, I'm up for it! It's set in early s5, Crowley doesn't know Gabe is archangel, and he has yet to defy Lucifer blatantly. Gabe, desparing at the fact that Apocalype was inevitable, comes to Crowley to distract himself. Crowley doesn't know why his lover is so eager now, but he had been uneasy lately, and who is he to refuse? So he accepts, but uh-oh, Luci decides to give a visit, cuz King of crossroad is important pawn. Gabe had ruined a few sigils to keep the angels out for_
> 
> _2\. his purpose, so Lucy comes in easily. “Well, well,” Lucifer says coldly. “This is not the reunion I had envisioned.” Crowley is weary/confused/ashamed, Gabriel is oddly pissed off because he’s not gonna be judged by Lucy. Crowely figures in between Lucy/Gabe sass that fuck, Gabe is that Gabriel? but he pipes down cuz he values his life. IDK if Lucy would be possessive about Gabe or passive-aggressively whisper how far baby bro had fallen and encourage him to lie with Crowley._
> 
> Couldn't pass up an opportunity like this ^_^
> 
> This fic involves dubious consent, please be warned.

Angel Radio has the best reputation for transmitting information. Celestial wavelengths communicating with wavelengths across wavelengths. Brilliant. But demons also have ways of of exchanging information. Whispers in the shadows. Rumors spilled into chalices of blood.

Crowley knows Lilith is dead. It isn’t a great shock. Prophecies take the surprise out of many things in Crowley’s line of work. 

Crowley is…sad for Lilith. Or, perhaps ‘sad’ is not the word. Crowley did not particularly care for Lilith. Her whims bordered on childishness, and her sadism made even a black heart like Crowley’s blush. 

In the end, she was a Daddy’s Girl. Like so many of the fools of Crowley’s species. Devoted to the father of their race, their creator. A bloody Angel of the Lord.

But Lilith symbolized stability. Before her, Crowley was one of a legion of crossroads demons. A crafty salesman with an eye on the prize but no avenues for advancement. Lilith trusted him - as much as one demon can trust another, anyhow. She gave Crowley responsibility that earned him stature and respect. The low masses began to acknowledge his strength. Better: they began to fear it.

Lilith is gone now, and Lucifer is free. It is only a matter of time before he takes his vessel. The Winchester boy Azazel was so desperate to acquire. The one Lilith was doomed to ever since the prophecy was set.

With Father’s return, Hell’s armies blaze with new purpose and love. Their master and creator, walking the Earth!

Crowley knows better. He keeps the famed Colt locked away for this reason. 

Tonight, Crowley sits before his fireplace with a tumbler of scotch. He drinks in silence, mulling over this latest plot twist. 

Soon, he will have to make dangerous choices. Reason versus Safety. A correct gamble will spare Crowley from death at the hand of the Fallen One. It will also earn him power beyond his wildest dreams. Who else will the legions turn to once Lucifer is gone? 

But a wrong turn will kill Crowley faster than the Colt at his own head.

A rustle catches Crowley’s attention. The Trickster, without warning. 

He rolls his eyes and returns to his drink. The god of mischief has been a companion and distraction for a time. But Crowley is not in the mood for the fellow’s whimsy tonight. 

Loki does not say hello or dive right into his trademark debauchery. Instead, he helps himself to Crowley’s minibar. “What, no party at Casa Crowley?” Loki asks. “I’m surprised. Daddy dearest roaming topside and all.“ 

Crowley snorts. Of course the god of mischief has an ear to Judeo-Christian gossip. "Forgive me for neglecting my pom-poms,” he mutters.

Loki raises a curious brow, but Crowley has no interest in humoring him. “You are a welcome companion,” Crowley says, “and a pleasing fuck.”

“Thank you,” Loki deadpans.

“But my trust is in short supply these days.”

The Trickster shrugs. “We’ve all got our secrets.”

This seems a worthy declaration for a toast. The two clank glasses. Fire crackles between them in the hearth.

“Why the long face, friend?” Crowley asks. “I'd think the Devil’s return would be a boom for your business.”

Loki sighs. “Yeah, well. Hard to play tricks when the world is a fucking pit of despair, you know?”

Crowley considers this. “Hm. I suppose we should start hoarding the good booze.”

“Or, drink as much as we can now,” Loki suggests. “When the world ends, we’ll be too plastered to notice.”

Crowley chuckles, but it is a thoughtful sound as he evaluates the Trickster. There is an underlying tension in Loki's normally loose posture. Frown lines stretch across his brow. His knuckles are white around his glass of scotch. 

Crowley sets his own tumbler on a side table. “I’d like to fuck you,” he says. 

Loki laughs, a sure-fire sign that Crowley has caught him off-guard. “Oh, really?”

“End of the world,” Crowley reasons with a casual wave. “Who knows how many chances we’ll have.”

The Trickster tilts his head, pensive. “Good call,” he decides. “In that case, maybe I should handle the fucking." 

"And why is that?”

“Could be our last night on Earth.” Loki says. He lifts an insinuating brow. “I’ll make it good for you, Crowley.”

The King of the Crossroads is _not_ about to fall for this one. “You are unbelievable,” he grouses. “I brought up the fucking first. That makes me the top tonight. Are we clear?”

With neither a yea or nay, the Trickster sets his drink next to Crowley’s. He straddles Crowley’s legs, setting his weight on Crowley's knees. With a snap of Loki's fingers, Crowley’s jacket and shirt are gone.

His tie remains, though. Loki winds it around his fist and yanks Crowley forward. “What-mmph,” is the extent of Crowley’s protest before Loki kisses him.

Crowley is flustered. This will not do. 

He borrows Loki’s trick, snapping off his jacket and shirt immediately. But Crowley does one better. He grabs two healthy hands full of Loki’s rear and guides him forward. Loki’s body settles tighter on his waist. Loki’s legs spread wider to accommodate. 

He chuckles but does not complain. Instead, Loki drags a thumbnail up Crowley’s throat. It jabs into the soft underbelly of his chin and forces his head higher. The contact stings, and Crowley likes it.

Abruptly, Loki climbs off him. He turns his back on Crowley, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What-” Crowley starts. The cold hits him without warning. His windows frost over. The fire dies.

There is no way. Crowley’s compound is warded against angels. This is impossible!

But, it happens. The Morningstar. The Fallen Son, himself. Standing in Crowley’s living room. 

Lucifer is not wearing the young Winchester. This vessel is unknown to Crowley. But it is him, all the same. There is no doubt. 

Crowley bites back fear. He has heard tales of the Creator's power, the blinding terror of his mutated grace. These stories did not do the real thing justice. Lucifer is a nuclear bomb teetering on the edge of annihilation. 

Is Lucifer’s knowledge so vast that he read Crowley’s thoughts of betrayal from afar?

No. Crowley must play his role and assume the best. He is a bloody salesman, after all!

Crowley bows his head. “I am humbled by your presence, Father-”

“What are you doing here?”

Crowley is confused. Does Lucifer not know that this compound is his? 

But, no. Lucifer is staring at Loki. 

It makes sense that an Angel of the Almighty would not care much for Pagan gods. Especially those of the trickster variety. 

But Lucifer must know his own vast power over this creature. Loki poses no threat to him. 

And Loki is no fool. He is smart enough to know his own limits. Better still, he does not share the same blind pride as his fellow gods. The Trickster will save himself, Crowley is sure of this. Perhaps he can be of assistance in this escape. It's the least he can do for a creature of Loki's...carnal talents.

Crowley puts on his most charming smile. “He is a trickster, Father,” he explains. “And he was just on his way out-”

“Hello, Lucifer.”

Crowley’s eyes widen. If the beast knew what was good for him, he would be halfway to the Elysian Fields right now. Instead, Loki's glare is leveled right at the Morningstar. 

“An _idiot_ trickster,” Crowley hisses.

“Hello, brother,” Lucifer replies. “It's been awhile. A lot has changed, I see.”

Brother? Crowley’s brow furrows. “Angel?”

Loki, but…not Loki, shrugs. 

The Trickster returns his focus to Lucifer. “Not a bad looking vessel,” he observes. “But not the right one. Let me guess. Winchester trouble?”

Lucifer smiles. “If Sam Winchester was weak, he wouldn’t be mine.” He folds his arms. “How about you, Gabriel? We have time. Why don’t you tell me all about this arrangement?” He glances at Crowley. “Not even a Knight.”

Loki - no, not Loki. 

_Gabriel_ , the friggen _Archangel_ , smirks at Crowley’s stunned expression. “What can I say? You hit the big time, kid.”

Lucifer is less amused. “Lying with demons, Gabriel?” His nose wrinkles. “What in the world is that like?”

Gabriel responds by plucking his glass of scotch from the table. “Kinky,” he says, then takes a sip. “You created them, bro. You should be flattered.”

Lucifer's expression oozes disgust.

“I’m right here, you know,” Crowley grumbles. It is not wise, perhaps, to balk in the face of angels. But he is a creature of pride, and he has limits.

It catches Crowley off-guard when Gabriel grabs him by the tie and pulls him forward. He stumbles, mouth covered by Gabriel’s eager kiss.

Crowley yanks back. “Are you out of your mind-” His protest dies when Gabriel kisses him again. 

“I’m keeping you alive,” the angel mutters. He pushes his tongue past Crowley’s shock-parted lips.

Crowley does not understand. And he knows better than to trust a friggen angel! But his creator has never stood so close either. He has the power to destroy Crowley with a snap of his fingers. 

Crowley does not trust Gabriel to be right. But he has no other plan. A salesman without a pitch is utterly useless, after all.

Crowley does the only thing he can think to. He groans like a good little demon-pet and winds his arms around Gabriel’s waist. Gabriel steps into him, bodies tight, mouths tighter. Crowley’s breaths are shallow between their skin.

He is wrenched back suddenly by an unseen force. A casual wave of the Devil’s hand. 

“Stop,” Lucifer says. His tone is blade-sharp. Crowley’s evil heart jumps into his throat.

Gabriel does not seem concerned. Quite the opposite, actually.

With a wink, Gabriel wraps Crowley’s tie around his hand again. Crowley steps forward like a hound on a leash. The giraffe had better be right about this, or Crowley will... No, Crowley will not do anything. Because he will be dead. Bollocks. 

Crowley moves into Gabriel’s space and nudges the angel’s nose with his own. His uncertain eyes meets those of the trickster he once thought he knew. “Good boy,” Gabriel murmurs. Oh, Crowley seethes at this.

But he does not show it. Crowley portrays only what Gabriel wants him to. He closes his eyes and lifts his chin, the perfect angle for Gabriel to taste his mouth again. Crowley runs hands down Gabriel’s back to his ass. He gives the vessel a good, healthy squeeze.

Crowley hisses abruptly. He is not on his feet anymore, forced to his knees by another force he cannot see. Pinned, helpless. 

“Sit,” Lucifer says.

Crowley is beyond rage. To be manipulated like this is disgusting enough. But it is worse to suffer at the hands of a creature who abhors him. It is plain, now. Lucifer despises him, as he no doubt hates every demon. To him, they are only reminders of a Paradise lost. Selfish, petty thing.

Crowley also sees the hard-on heavy in Lucifer’s jeans. 

Lucifer digs his hand into Gabriel’s hair. Gabriel chuckles, not an ounce of surprise. 

He…knew this would happen! Crowley sees red. Literally. His eyes blaze like lava. 

Neither angel notices, too busy staring at each other. Gabriel traces fingers up Lucifer’s wrist.

“I was in that cage for years, Gabriel,” Lucifer says. Crowley hears the weariness in his voice.

Gabriel hears it too. But the sentiment does not impress him, if his snort is any indication. “Don’t sob story me, bro,” he replies. “Michael did what he had to.”

“And when Father finds out you’re mating with demons-”

“Dad’s gone, Lucifer.” Crowley blinks. 

Lucifer drops his hand and steps back from his brother. “What?”

“Dad’s gone,” Gabriel repeats. “Disappeared. Might be dead. No one knows.”

“That’s…not possible.”

“You’re out, but it’s got nothing to do with what the Big Guy wants.” Gabriel sighs. “Heaven’s tired, Lucifer. They want this thing done. I want it done too.”

“You?” Lucifer rolls his eyes. “You’ll miss this place more than anyone. You smell like them, Gabriel. Sour. Skin and sweat.”

Gabriel lifts a correcting finger. “Booze and sex, actually,” he says. “In other words, awesome.”

“Awesome,” Lucifer echoes. He sounds frustrated but looks amused. 

The Devil eases into the chair that Crowley once occupied. Worse - he sniffs the tumbler that once belonged to Crowley, then steals a sip of his scotch.

Crowley’s resentment freezes the moment Lucifer locks eyes with him. “Come,” the Devil says. 

Crowley gapes, furious to the point of wonder. But what else can he do? He is not ready to die. Not yet.

Crowley approaches, head lowered, and kneels at Lucifer’s side. His tie dangles from his neck, a noose begging to be strung.

Lucifer runs a hand through Crowley's hair. It stray down the side of his face. His fingers are cold. 

Crowley keeps his head turned. His anger burns hot against the Devil’s touch.

“You were an ally of Lilith,” Lucifer muses. “Instrumental in my return.”

Crowley’s chin is grasped between steel fingers. He grits his teeth. “Yes, Father." 

Crowley feels a shift behind him, but he does not care enough to look. Gabriel. The Archangel. Wonderful.

Crowley should have known. The being was too powerful to be who he claimed. Foolish, this mistake. Unforgivable.

"You dislike me,” Lucifer observes.

Lying would be the prudent option here. But for all Crowley's salesmanship, some truths are too evident to hide. Crowley holds eye contact with his creator. He does not say a word. 

Lucifer’s mouth curls at a corner. “That’s unfortunate,” he says. “I’m beginning to see what my brother likes in you.”

Crowley does not like the sound of this.

Behind him, Gabriel snorts. “You were on vomit-watch over the demon thing. Now you’re playing finders keepers with mine?”

Lucifer laughs, scarily delighted. He taps Crowley’s chin with his thumb. “My brother thinks of you as his,” the Devil remarks. “Adorable, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Father,” Crowley replies. He wants to stab the life out of both of them. 

“It’s funny, Gabriel. This thing you covet?" Lucifer smiles. "He belongs to me. Heaven gets this whole Universe in the name of our Father. Shouldn’t I rightfully claim what I’ve made?”

Clearly pleased with himself, Lucifer sinks back. His hands dangle from the armrests. He opens his legs, allowing full view of the erection filling out his jeans. 

“Come,” he says to Crowley again. Bollocks.

Crowley dares to hesitate. He shoots a murderous look over his shoulder at the archangel who is to blame for this disaster.

Gabriel could at least have the decency to look apologetic. Instead, he quirks a brow with interest.

Chewing back a cringe, Crowley lowers his head and slides between Lucifer’s knees. He swallows back indignation as he unzips Lucifer’s pants.

A firm hand yanks his head back. Instinctively, Crowley sneers. 

Lucifer’s expression is infuriatingly patient. “Look at me, child,” he says.

Crowley coaxes his rage down and forces his expression to blank indifference. “Yes, Father,” he says.

Lucifer chuckles and thumbs across his eyebrows. “You don’t have to lie to me, little one,” he says. Little one! Crowley rages.  

The Devil leans forward, startling Crowley. “You would kill me if you could,” Lucifer says. His voice is a purr, low and warning. “I smell your hatred on you.” He nuzzles the side of Crowley’s face. Crowley stills. “I like your anger,” Lucifer tells him. “You’re different from the others. You have fire, and a brain. I appreciate these things. As does my brother. Don’t you, Gabriel?”

“Get your own toys,” Gabriel sighs behind them. Helpful as always, the trickster.

Lucifer leans back with an amused chuckle. “I’m willing to compromise," he offers his brother. "You always were my favorite.” Compromise?

Crowley becomes aware of Gabriel’s presence at his back. How did he not feel this monster's power before? Did Gabriel mask it from him, all a ruse? 

Kneeling between two guardians of Heaven, the warped thing inside Crowley shrinks. They will kill him, Crowley realizes. There is nothing he can do to escape this fate. Crowley can only hope that whatever end Lucifer has in store will be quick and painless.

Gabriel’s hands embrace his shoulders, more gentle than they have any right to be. When he squeezes, Crowley stands without instruction. 

Will Gabriel be the one to end him, then? Crowley closes his eyes and waits for death.

He gasps at sudden exposure. His vessel, at once, is completely unclothed. Gabriel’s mouth wanders down the back of his neck. He licks between Crowley’s shoulders and runs hands down his sides. They settle between his thighs, urging his legs apart.

“Relax,” Gabriel murmurs, mouth to skin. “Trust me.” This is all the warning Crowley gets before Gabriel pushes into him. Crowley groans before he can stifle himself.

How is he supposed to play this? Lucifer seems to favor Crowley’s anger. Should Crowley let himself enjoy this? Or are Crowley's odds of survival better if he shows hatred and embarrassment?

Perhaps both? Crowley seethes at this mistreatment. He, King of the Crossroads, treated like a dog! 

But Crowley does not have to coax his body to shift against Gabriel’s waist. He turns his head when Gabriel’s mouth strays to his neck, soft blonde hair tickling his face. Gabriel's fingers stroll around his balls. Crowley hisses, a natural reaction.

“Hm."The thoughtful sound comes from Lucifer. The Devil leans forward in his chair. "You lust and you hate. What a curious thing you are.”

Lucifer must enjoy curious things. Crowley is rewarded with a hand around the base of his shaft. Lucifer slow-pumps, urging Crowley in his cool grip. The strength of his fist makes Crowley suck in a breath. He can actually feel the angel's grace flare from his hand. It is a thrum of pure energy that pulls Crowley to full thickness. He throbs in Lucifer’s grasp. 

Gabriel rocks against Crowley, stretching his vessel. Crowley arches back. This is utterly insane.

“These bodies are so limited,” Lucifer mutters. He bemoans this fact seconds before pulling Crowley down by the wrists. Crowley grunts his surprise. His hands brace on the Devil’s shoulders, ass jutted out. 

It is the perfect angle for Gabriel to bury himself. Gabriel fucks Crowley deeper, balls grinding his ass. Skin smacks skin so hard, even a demon gasps with pleasure.

Lucifer smiles, a humorless line. Crowley reels at their nearness. The power of the Morningstar shines too bright. 

Crowley turns his head, panic rising. But his hunger rises too. Crowley's cock throbs between his legs. He wraps a hand around himself. 

What a disgraceful whore he must look. But if this is how Crowley must save himself, let Gabriel fuck him to the brink. His eyes clench shut. Almost, yes, almost!

Crowley gasps. He teeters on the brink, seconds from release, and then…nothing. Completely nothing! 

“Easy, pet,” Lucifer murmurs. He caresses Crowley’s sweat-messed face.

Gabriel is undeterred by Crowley's misfortune. He grips Crowley's hips and spills God-sent seed in a succession of hot, tight spasms.  

A trickle of wetness slides between Crowley's thighs. Cum-stained by an Angel of the Lord. Brilliant.

Crowley gives himself a tentative squeeze. Immediately, he wishes he hadn't. Something tight as leather coils around the base of his cock. Crowley's shaft blossoms to a painful blush. 

A scar winds, thin but swollen, around Crowley’s shaft. His hips jump forward on an empty thrust. Nothing, not even precum.

“My brother treated you,” Lucifer says. "Come. Let me feel." His jeans are unfastened, cock hard and out.

Crowley shudders. At least he can do this without looking

He turns, humiliated and beyond pissed off, and sits. His dripping hole is tight with the nerves of his denied orgasm. Lucifer guides him all the way back. He rumbles against Crowley’s spine. 

“Go on, little duck,” Lucifer says.

Crowley’s glare is all spite when he looks at Gabriel. He will never forgive him, his eyes say. And not just Gabriel. Crowley will find a way to kill every last angel for this embarrassment. He will devour them all and spit them back out.

“I said, go on.” Lucifer wraps a hand around Crowley's cock and pumps hard. The scar around Crowley’s shaft snags even tighter. 

Crowley’s waist spasms without order. He slams down on the thickness filling his already slick hole. 

Lucifer hums approval and holds Crowley down. Ass is forced to waist. Lucifer digs deep to sweet places, as if he has touched Crowley before. In some ways, maybe he has. 

Lucifer slides a flat hand down Crowley's stomach. He does not handle Crowley’s cock. Lucifer only teases him with gentle strokes. Crowley moans weakly. 

His hazy eyes try to focus on Gabriel. The archangel bends between his legs. He swats away his brother's hand to grab Crowley's cock himself. Crowley jerks upward, gasping. Gabriel swallows the sound in a kiss.

Crowley briefly forgets his anger, so desperate for relief. He groans under Gabriel’s lips and bucks towards his hand. Then, he rolls down on Lucifer’s shaft. The Devil pushes deeper and harder. Everything trembles inside Crowley. It builds and rises, so close - so close! 

Something wrenches around him, like a harness. Crowley grits his teeth. This is beyond torture.

“C'mon, bro,” Gabriel murmurs. “Have a heart, will ya?”

Lucifer smirks and props his chin on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley has no interest in the pleased expression on his face. He also has no interest in Gabriel nudging Lucifer’s face with his own. The sound of their kiss makes Crowley’s skin crawl. 

Gabriel’s hair strokes Crowley's face as his lips meet his brother's. His thumb digs into the ridge of Crowley's cock head. Crowley's stomach clenches hopefully. Nothing.

The Devil turns from his brother and drags his forked tongue up the rim of Crowley’s ear. “Say please, duck,” he murmurs. “I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please,” Crowley grumbles. What dignity does he have left to lose at this point? 

Gabriel’s thumbnail scratches through the slit of his shaft. Crowley dry-spasms and curses under his breath.

Lucifer’s arm tightens around him. His fingers kneading slowly into Crowley's stomach. 

But the Devil does not only touch flesh. His stroke reaches beyond, to dark, untapped places. Crowley’s eyes flare red for a moment.

But the red dies out, fading to a glazed black. Warmth and chills war in Crowley's belly. He groans; soft, subdued.

“Again,” Lucifer murmurs. He draws fingers up Crowley’s rib cage. 

Lucifer is doing something to Crowley. He does not feel like himself. This black oil-glaze makes his head feel heavy. His need to come is rigid on every nerve. 

It will be okay, though. Crowley is with Lucifer. Everything will be okay.  

Crowley's parted lips graze Gabriel’s. The archangel’s thumb strolls across his jaw. 

“Please, Father,” Crowley whispers.

Lucifer hums. He forces Crowley back on him as his own hips work forward. A tremor pulses through the Devil when he climaxes.  

The pressure around Crowley's cock eases. His pleasure spikes immediately. Crowley squeezes his eyes shut. His orgasm leaves his stomach streaked in white. Lucifer smears it around like a finger painting child. 

“Get up,” Lucifer says.

Crowley moves. Numb and weary, he stands just long enough to turn and kneel again. He feels the slow dribble of wetness down his thighs, two angels-worth. Crowley is sore outside. Inside, the darkness within swims in a haze. 

His creator allowed him this pleasure. His Father, who loves him. Crowley smiles.

He lifts his head dutifully when Lucifer cups his chin. “If I see you with my brother again, I will end you,” the Devil promises. His voice is soft, gentle. “Do you understand?”

Crowley is vaguely aware of Gabriel’s snort. But it does not matter to him. Nothing matters, in this moment. “Yes, Father,” he replies.

Lucifer pats his cheek with affection. Then, he reaches for the tumbler of scotch on the table. Lucier takes one final sip of what was once Crowley’s drink.

He smiles at Gabriel. “I’ll see you soon, brother.”

Gabriel sighs. “Real soon, I bet.”

Lucifer’s eyes twinkle. He disappears from the room. 

Crowley stays on his knees. He feels Lucifer’s absence like a severed limb. 

“Crowley?”

“Yes?”

“He’s gone. You can…you know, stand up.”

Crowley does stand up, because an angel instructed him to. He turns towards Gabriel and waits. 

Gabriel looks him over. His mouth tips downward. “You’re a mess,” he mutters.

Crowley blinks at him. He might normally offer some snappy response. Or something lewd, yes. Something lewd would be more his speed.

But the words do not come to him. Everything is a haze, lazily sloshing about inside him. “Yes,” he replies.

Gabriel huffs, as if Crowley’s easy acceptance is not what he wants. Isn't this what all angels expect from demon-kind? “Damn it. Okay, listen. You're going to grab a power nap first, Crowley. Got it?" 

"Yes.” Demons do not need sleep, but Crowley will nap if Lucifer’s brother requires it of him.

“When you get up?” Gabriel snaps his fingers. A pen and notepad appear in his hands. He draws something quickly, then hands the page to Crowley. 

Enochian warding symbols.

“Those are wrong," Gabriel says. "Fix ‘em, and Luci won't drop in on you like that again.”

“Or you,” Crowley muses. He does not say it to be cruel. He does not have the capacity for much of anything at the moment.

Gabriel’s mouth tightens. “Or me,” he murmurs. “For the best, I guess." He hesitates. "You know, I didn’t- Whatever. You won’t remember this part anyway. But I didn’t set you up, okay? I had fun with you. For real. Not worth much, I get it. But it’s true.”

“Yes,” Crowley replies. He is pleased to know that he’s made his Lord’s kin happy.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. He places two fingers on Crowley’s forehead. Everything stops.

***

Crowley relaxes into his seat. There is an interesting trespasser on his monitor. It is the same bird who thought his presence went unnoticed earlier. A third party to Crowley’s deal-making.

Crowley sips his brandy. Over the speakers, he hears a muttered, “I followed him. It’s not far, but it’s layered in Enochian warding magic. I can’t get in.”

Crowley switches the image off. 

Correct Enochian this time. No tampering by angels pretending to be tricksters. He supposes he should give Gabriel credit. 

But Crowley is not ready to give credit. Good feelings can wait until Crowley delivers the Colt to those ridiculous Winchesters.

Perhaps the fools will actually succeed in killing the Devil. Then, maybe, Crowley will muster an ounce of forgiveness for the brother.

Or perhaps Crowley will end him too. There is time to decide, and Crowley is the one holding the cards.

*The End*

**Author's Note:**

> So...yes, this happened.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I'm on [Tumblr](http://daisy4days.tumblr.com) too if you'd like to say hi during the hellatus :)


End file.
